


So hold me when I fall away from the lines, When I'm losing it all

by agentlukaofshield (lukadarkwater)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cuddles, F/M, Fluff, I wrote this late last night and so that's probably why it's so gross and fluffy, Sharing a Bed, post 3x20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 20:30:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6822919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lukadarkwater/pseuds/agentlukaofshield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her wide brown eyes, rimmed with red and shining with tears, met his as he knelt before her, placing one hand on her knee and the other on her arm.  “Jemma, what’s wrong?”</p><p>Wordlessly, she extended her hand and showed him the piece of paper she had been looking at.</p><p>Ah.</p><p>“Margaret ‘Peggy’ Carter, Founding Member of S.H.I.E.L.D., Trailblazer for Women, Dead at Age of 95”  Was the title of the article and he instantly understood the reason for her tears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So hold me when I fall away from the lines, When I'm losing it all

Fitz stumbled back to his room, his head spinning after the long day that he’d had. Well, one of the many long days that he’d had, if he was being honest. Ever since Hive had appeared, it was like everyone in the base was running around like chickens with their heads cut off and moments to breathe were few and far between. 

 

Now, however, as he turned the corner to his room, all that was on his mind was curling up next to Jemma and going to bed.  They had been doing this, sleeping in the same bed, ever since  Bucharest and Fitz couldn’t remember the last time he had slept as well as he did with Jemma curled up in his arms (even if the hours he spent as such were nowhere near the length he wanted them to be).

 

However, as he pressed in the code to his room and stepped inside, he instantly forgot about his weariness.  Jemma was sitting on the edge of his bed, her hands clutching a scrap of paper with her shoulders bowed into her chest as they shook lightly with sobs. 

 

“Jemma?” he asked, alarmed at the sight of her.

 

Her wide brown eyes, rimmed with red and shining with tears, met his as he knelt before her, placing one hand on her knee and the other on her arm.  “Jemma, what’s wrong?”

 

Wordlessly, she extended her hand and showed him the piece of paper she had been looking at.

 

Ah.

 

_ “Margaret ‘Peggy’ Carter, Founding Member of S.H.I.E.L.D., Trailblazer for Women, Dead at Age of 95”   _ Was the title of the article and he instantly understood the reason for her tears. 

 

“Oh, Jemma,” he muttered, rubbing his thumb along her arm 

 

“Coulson gave me this after I got Daisy settled into the med bay,” she said, her voice rough from tears, “He knew that - that I would want to know.”

 

Fitz nodded. For as long as he had known Jemma, she had been a great admirer of Peggy Carter.  “Not only was she a woman, but she’s a British woman!” A 16 year old Jemma had exclaimed to him after their Shield History class, “Honestly, Fitz, what are the odds of becoming a part of an American organization founded in part by a woman from your own country?” 

 

At the time Fitz had snarked back a reply about how he wouldn’t know considering Scotland was  _ his _ home country and it wasn’t like there were any Scottish founders running around but now, sitting in front of Jemma as she cried for the loss of one of her role models, his response was much different. 

He sat down beside her on the bed, gently removing the newspaper clipping from her hand before wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her to him.  Jemma’s response was immediate.  Her hands fisted into the fabric on the back of his shirt and she buried her face into his neck, exhaling a real sob as she let her emotions take over.  

 

Fitz’s hand soothed up and down her back as her murmured soft words into her hair. Even though he admired Peggy Carter, he knew that her death was hitting Jemma extra hard and he hated to see her so upset. 

 

Finally, Jemma’s breaths became more even and Fitz pulled away slightly.  Jemma’s face was covered in tear tracks, her makeup running slightly because of it, but Fitz just reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind her ears before kissing her forehead lightly. 

 

“How about I make us some tea and we can watch that Peggy Carter BBC documentary you like?” he suggested, trying to figure out a way to cheer her up.

 

Jemma’s eyes widened slightly with surprise “But, the last time we watched it, you complained because we had already seen it.”

 

He smiled slightly at her, “I know, Jemma, but you enjoy it and it would be a nice tribute to her.  I don’t mind, I’ll probably fall asleep halfway through it anyway.”

 

“You are staying, right?” she asked, her voice small as she gripped his shirt sleeve. 

 

Not for the first time, Fitz was struck by her need for him.  Though he had caught glimpses of it before, ever since starting down the more romantic route of their relationship, Jemma had  become more blunt about her feelings for him.  It never failed to take his breath away because he felt it too, that draw.  The feeling of never wanting to be without her, so strong it pulsed through his veins with every beat of his heart. 

 

He didn’t say any of that, however, and just smirked at her.

 

“Well, this is  _ my _ room, so I don’t think I would be going anywhere. Even if I had any desire to leave.”

 

Jemma gave him a small half smile in response before shoving his shoulder lightly, “I was promised tea, or did you forget?”

 

“First you try to kick me out of my own room and now you’re demanding tea?  Becoming my girlfriend has changed you, Simmons.”  Jemma’s real laugh followed him out of the door and he grinned to hear it. 

 

When he returned a few minutes later, Jemma was curled up on his bed, dressed in his old MIT shirt and flannel pajama pants as she watched the DVD menu on his laptop play.

 

He handed her the tea, setting his own cup on the bedside table before changing quickly into the pajamas of his that she hadn’t pilfered -  _ honestly Simmons, I’m going to run out of t-shirts at this rate  _ \- before settling down next to her.

 

Jemma instantly burrowed into his side, resting her head on his shoulder as his arm curved around her waist, pulling her to him. He had long since accepted his role as Jemma Simmon’s Official Pillow and the position was instinctive at this point, a time honored tradition.  

 

He grabbed the small remote for his laptop and hit play before reaching for his own tea and sipping from the warm liquid. 

 

If he was being honest, he really didn’t care for this specific documentary.  It wasn’t that it was bad, in fact, it was the most historically accurate--or so Jemma had told him about a hundred times,--but he had seen it about a  _ hundred _ times and so it was a little dull at this point.

 

However, Jemma loved it and so he was willing to watch it for her sake.  Besides, even if the movie was boring, cuddling with Jemma never was.  She was soft and warm against him, her head cradled in the slight hollow of his shoulder and arm as she watched the narrator explain Peggy Carter’s childhood to the camera. He had a fleeting thought that it felt like Jemma was meant to fit in his arms, her body the perfect size to nestle into him and her head falling so naturally into the same spot every time, and almost rolled his eyes at himself. 

 

Before realizing that he was in love with Jemma, he had scoffed at the sillier ways people described love.  It all just sounded made up to him, like people were making it out to be much better than it was.  However, now he knew that they were all right.  Loving Jemma was like every cliched saying he’d ever heard.  Kissing Jemma was like tasting infinity and brushing against its edges with his finger tips. And seeing that same, pure light reflected in her eyes, was the closest thing to a religious experience that Fitz had ever had. 

 

She was wonderful and perfect and Fitz swore he would never let small moments like this become meaningless.

 

As the movie progressed, Jemma grew more and more relaxed against him.  His thumb rubbed soothing circles into her side and her muscles lost all of their tension slowly until her whole weight was leaning against him.  It was around the time that Peggy was moving to L.A. that Fitz realized that she was completely asleep. 

 

He craned his neck to look down at her, unable to suppress the smile at the thrill of domesticity that shot through him.  He couldn’t see much of Jemma, just the top of her head and her hands still wrapped around her empty tea cup, but he could perfectly picture her sleeping face pressed against his shoulder and that was more than enough for him.

 

Carefully, he reached over, pressing the button on his remote to shut his laptop off, plunging the room into darkness, before he liberated Jemma’s mug from her grasp, placing it beside his own on the table. 

 

Jemma stirred slightly as he did so but didn’t wake. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him to her and muttered unintelligibly into his chest. 

 

Fitz smiled once more, before reaching down, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, and whispering a soft goodnight into her hair.  As he leaned back and let his eyes closed, he allowed himself to become lost in the warmth of Jemma’s embrace, incredibly thankful that he was here with her and that she wanted to be there as well. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was more than a little disappointed that we didn't get to see Jemma's reaction to Peggy's death and so I decided to fix that


End file.
